Chapter 41
June.
Summer had arrived in Japan—and with it came the jujutsu sorcerers' seasonal nightmare: the overtime inferno.
Thanks to regular meals and a calmer state of mind, Asou Akiya had grown a little taller during this second wave of adolescence. Two months of taijutsu training and the steady nourishment of cursed energy had improved his physical condition beyond expectations—his frame now hinting at lean muscle beneath the surface.
The baby fat in his face had faded, revealing a sharper jawline. His complexion glowed with health, no longer pale and listless as before. By next year, he'd likely shed the last traces of childish softness entirely.
And those deep, lacquer-black eyes?
They burned with quiet intensity under the early summer sun.
The coming season meant high-stakes missions—a chance to push his limits, grow stronger, and expand his network. He'd meet more jujutsu sorcerers, assistant supervisors, and members of Window. More importantly, he'd build connections with Japan's wealthy and powerful—those who could commission curse exorcisms and, in doing so, pave a discreet path for him to eventually step away from the jujutsu world altogether.
His phone buzzed. A message from his close, short-haired female classmate offered news of a new development.
[Ieri Shoko: Two senior students want to meet you.]
[Ieri Shoko: Are you free? They can't come to the boys' dorm—let's meet at the training field.]
[Ieri Shoko: I'd recommend making a good impression. Mei Mei-senpai is a Grade 1 sorcerer; Iori Utahime-senpai is Grade 2. You'll be working with them during this busy summer.]
Mei Mei. Iori Utahime.
In the original story, they were among the few female sorcerers who survived into the later arcs—Mei Mei a master of taijutsu and cursed energy manipulation, Iori Utahime a skilled support-type fighter with powerful reinforcement techniques.
Asou tapped out his reply on the keypad of his flip phone.
[Asou Ahiya: No problem. See you in fifteen minutes.]
He went to find Geto Suguru and relayed the invitation. Now officially recognized as a Semi-Grade 1 Sorcerer, Geto had always shown keen interest in fellow sorcerers—and immediately agreed to come.
"Is Mei Mei-senpai really that strong?" Geto asked as he changed into his outdoor clothes.
"Yes," Asou confirmed, noting once again Geto's instinctive focus on power—he'd already overlooked Iori Utahime. "You don't need to wear your durable school uniform. There won't be any fighting. Mei Mei-senpai is highly socially intelligent."
"Tch…" Geto's tone held a flicker of disappointment, though he casually slipped off his jacket. "What about the other one—Iori Utahime-senpai?"
Asou replied easily, "From what I've heard, she's the cheerful, hot-headed type—friendly, but quick to explode if provoked."
Geto hesitated. "What about her technique?"
If it's an interesting one, he thought, I'd still love a good fight.
Asou poked Geto's arm, urging him toward the door. "Don't overthink it—just come. You'll find out when you meet her."
"You're awfully eager," Geto teased, falling into the easy rhythm of boyhood banter. "She must be really pretty." After all, talk of girls was inevitable between male classmates. "Should we drag Gojo along? Though I suspect he'll end up ticking off both senpais."
Geto knew all too well that Gojo's sharp tongue spared no one—not even Ieri Shoko, who often bore the brunt of his casual cruelty.
Otherwise, why would she hate sitting next to him so much?
"I've got a plan," Asou said simply, without elaborating.
And Geto believed him. He'd seen enough to trust Asou's uncanny ability to defuse disasters before they even began.
With light steps, Geto followed Asou to Gojo's dorm room, his mind already spinning with images of what these new senior sorcerers might be like—perhaps as bold and striking as the heroines in his manga.
"Huh? Senpais?" Gojo's voice came through the door, utterly indifferent. "Are they old?"
Geto immediately facepalmed. "Don't you dare ask that to their faces! That'd be terrifying—and I didn't wear my 'peacemaker' outfit today!"
Asou stepped in calmly. "Tokyo Jujutsu High didn't enroll any second-years this year, so they're both third-years—two to three years older than us. And Mei Mei-senpai… she's a Grade 1 sorcerer, just like you."
Gojo whistled. "Not bad."
He shut the door. "Wait—let me change! Time to show off my new clothes!"
Geto turned to Asou with sudden seriousness. "Is it too late for me to change too?"
Asou sighed, a dark line forming on his forehead. "We are not going to fight! I specifically mentioned Mei Mei-senpai so you two wouldn't provoke Iori Utahime-senpai. As juniors, we need to make a good impression."
"I promise," Geto said earnestly. "Iori Utahime, right? I'll make sure Gojo doesn't bully her."
Asou had already given up hope. The combined charm-and-chaos duo of Gojo and Geto was genuinely dangerous.
"Tell you what," Asou said, discarding his backup plans and opting for the safest strategy of all—*silence*. "Once Gojo comes out, make a bet with him: whoever speaks fewer words today wins. And the real prize? Who gets a senpai's contact info first."
"Easy win for me," Geto replied without hesitation. "That's boring."
"Not necessarily," Asou said, a flicker of quiet confidence in his voice. "Gojo's loaded."
"I refuse to believe Jujutsu High senpais are that shallow," Geto countered. He knew full well that Grade 1 and Grade 2 sorcerers earned more than enough to live comfortably in Tokyo—no need to pander to anyone's wealth.
"Then… are you in?" Asou pressed, already glancing at his watch. Time was ticking.
"I'm in," Geto said with a mischievous grin. "And if I beat Gojo, I'll give them your phone number."
"Fine," Asou agreed, sealing the wager. "But if you lose, you'd better say something nice—comfort the senpais a little."
The two of them, still chatting through Gojo's closed door, were soon greeted by the sight of Gojo Satoru himself—dressed like a peacock in full display, radiating effortless brilliance.
He'd clearly put thought into his look: tailored, stylish, and topped with his signature sunglasses, which added an air of impenetrable mystery—as if he'd already foreseen his victory.
"I'm betting too!" Gojo announced, striding out with confidence.
To win, he'd brought out his ultimate weapon: overwhelming aesthetic superiority, designed to dwarf his male classmates without even trying.
Fifteen minutes later, not a second late, the three boys arrived at the training field to meet their seniors.
Ieri Shoko, waiting in the shade, spotted them immediately and gave a small sigh of relief. She turned to Mei Mei-senpai and said, "They're here. Want me to introduce them?"
From a distance, Iori Utahime's eyes locked onto the tallest figure. "Who's the white-haired one?"
Mei Mei smiled faintly. "Clearly Gojo Satoru. There isn't another powerful, white-haired beauty in the entire jujutsu world."
But Iori preferred athletic types. "I think he's less impressive than the broad-shouldered guy with the bun next to him."
Ieri replied calmly, "Just so you know—the two of them are the most dangerous people in our class."
So please, for your own sake—watch what you say. Don't provoke them.
Mei Mei caught the warning beneath the words and nodded. "Don't worry. We've heard plenty about them already."
As a child of a jujutsu sorcerer clan, Mei Mei had grown up hearing how the Six Eyes had shattered the balance of the jujutsu world. The name "Gojo Satoru" had been repeated so often in her household it had become background noise. Yet this was the first time she'd seen him in person.
Iori Utahime, however, carried no such reverence. Her status as a senior student meant little when it came to awe—she felt no particular fear of the famed Six Eyes. If anything, she found the Cursed Spirit Manipulation technique far cooler. Using curses to fight curses? Now that's awesome.
Still, first impressions mattered. Mei Mei was genuinely surprised by Gojo's fashion sense—and her mind, trained in high society, instinctively began tallying the cost of his entire outfit.
With both Gojo and Geto now miraculously silent—playing their parts with deceptive innocence—it fell to Asou Akiya to handle the pleasantries.
"Senpais, it's our first time meeting you. Please take good care of us," Asou Akiya said with practiced grace. "I'm Asou Akiya. The white-haired one is Gojo Satoru. And the other black-haired classmate beside me is Geto Suguru."
Outwardly, Asou paid the most attention to Mei Mei—after all, the tall beauty with her silver hair tied in a high ponytail was undeniably striking. But having spent every day beside Gojo Satoru—white hair, blue eyes, overwhelming presence—Asou had long since developed immunity to silver locks. His peripheral vision, instead, lingered on Iori Utahime.
She wore the classic red-and-white miko robes—reminiscent of Kikyo from Inuyasha* that beloved, ethereal priestess. Traditional, elegant, and perfectly aligned with the high school ideal of the serene shrine maiden.
Two glossy black braids fell over her chest, and her figure was full, womanly—the kind that matured with confidence. She was precisely three years older than Gojo Satoru. No wonder she'd become the most popular female character paired with him in Jujutsu Kaisen fan circles.
Judging by Inoue Kazuka's portrayal in the official materials—confident, composed, and undeniably adult—it was clear Gojo had a soft spot for the "older sister" archetype: poised, experienced women who carried themselves with quiet strength.
Iori fit the look and age perfectly. Her personality… well, it took real stamina to argue with Gojo Satoru for a full decade without breaking. That alone was impressive.
Fortunately, thanks to the bet between Geto and Gojo—both now enforcing strict silence—and Asou's constant, subtle efforts to steer conversations away from conflict zones, Iori hadn't yet glimpsed Gojo's most grating traits.
Her impression of Asou, meanwhile, grew steadily warmer. Beaming with proud seniority, she declared, "Don't worry, juniors! Senpai will look after you!"
Mei Mei, ever perceptive, recognized Asou immediately. She covered her mouth with a delicate laugh. "Asou-kun, Geto-kun, Gojo-kun—you can just call me Mei Mei."
The difference in their emotional intelligence was immediately apparent.
One immersed herself in Japan's rigid senpai-kohai hierarchy.
The other lowered her guard to build genuine rapport with promising juniors.
Senpai? With that level of strength, you dare claim you'll "look after" me?
Gojo's brow twitched—just slightly.
But before his disdain could surface, both Asou and Geto swiftly stepped in.
"Thank you so much!" Asou said brightly.
"I'll thank them on Gojo's behalf!" Geto added earnestly.
Mei Mei exchanged phone numbers with all three boys without hesitation.
Iori, however, wasn't the extroverted type. She preferred to stick with Ieri Shoko, whom she already knew, and stood quietly to the side, offering no contact info.
Geto grew slightly anxious. Without missing a beat, he radiated warm, approachable charm and smiled gently. "Senpai?"
Iori blinked, confused. "Huh? What is it?"
Asou cleared his throat softly.
Then—Gojo stepped forward.
He planted himself directly in front of Iori, chin tilted slightly upward in that trademark aristocratic arrogance. With deliberate slowness, he removed his sunglasses, revealing eyes of impossible blue—and extended his phone toward her. The screen displayed his contacts app, open and waiting.
Iori had never been cornered by two guys over 180 cm tall acting utterly bizarre. The atmosphere grew tense in an instant. The sheer density of their cursed energy—subtle but immense—pressed down on her like invisible weights. She instinctively took half a step back and ducked behind Mei Mei, eyes wide with alarm.
"What are you guys doing?!" she blurted out, flustered.
Mei Mei mused aloud, a spark of amusement in her eyes, "So… Utahime's this popular?"
Ieri Shoko, utterly bewildered, stepped in. "Gojo, Geto—you two aren't supposed to scare the senpais!"
With outsiders present, Asou couldn't explain the truth to Ieri. He bit back a laugh and said simply, "It's fine, really."
Thanks to the silent, statue-like intimidation radiating from Gojo and Geto—two human monoliths of overwhelming presence—Asou smoothly secured Iori Utahime's phone number.
This is the advantage of actually having a functional mouth.
"Thank you, senpai," he said politely.
And thus, the one person who hadn't joined the bet became the sole victor of the social encounter.
Now, Iori would be hard-pressed to forget any of them. Her final impression of Gojo and Geto? Complete weirdos.
Too flustered to even enjoy her senior status, she grabbed Mei Mei's arm and practically fled the scene.
As they hurried away, Mei Mei turned back and waved cheerfully over her shoulder. "Talk again soon!"
An awkward silence fell like a dropped curtain.
Then—Ieri Shoko burst out laughing, her voice ringing across the empty field. "What on earth was that, you three?!"
Gojo, his carefully cultivated image of aloof elegance utterly shattered, lashed out in wounded pride. He slung an arm around Asou's neck, refusing to let him look down at his phone to save the new contact. "Have you no taste at all?! How could she show zero interest in this magnificent face?!"
Geto wasted no time throwing him under the bus. "*Magnificent face?* You mean the one you wore while oozing murderous intent? And I lost because of you, Gojo!"
Seizing the moment, Geto leaned in to peek at Asou's phone screen—just as Asou was about to label the contacts. He saw it clearly:
[Mei Mei-senpai]
and
"Iori Utahime"
"Ah-ha!" Geto grinned, eager to shift focus. "Asou, you used an honorific for Mei Mei-senpai—you must have a thing for her!"
"Using honorifics with girls is basic decency," Gojo countered immediately, folding his arms. "It's weird not to."
Now united by mutual defeat, the two "DKs" turned their full, childish force on Asou. They loomed over him, voices dripping with mock threat:
"Spill it—which senpai do you actually like?!"
Asou snapped his phone shut with a serene smile, though his shoulders sagged under the combined weight of their dramatic energy.
"Neither," he said sweetly. "Not even a little."
Just then, the first cicada of summer broke the stillness from the grass beside the field—its shrill, sun-drenched cry marking the true arrival of the season.
Moments later, the four of them gathered around a vending machine, sipping ice-cold drinks and chatting idly about everything and nothing. Amid the easy laughter, the boy with the clearest, calmest voice spoke up—half-jesting, half-serious:
"As Yaga-sensei's model student," Asou said, "I don't date before adulthood. It's a rule."
—
…
Asou Akiya: I adore mature, elegant women too.